Carcinogen
by Sienna03
Summary: She's like secondhand smoke: lingering and cancerous. Spike Julia drabbles.
1. Handshake

**_A/N: _**_Welcome to **Carcinogen, **a Spike/ Julia drabble challenge for the **30Romances **community of LJ. To those who have read other works of mine, welcome back! And to those of you who haven't, I hope you enjoy!_

_ **Disclaimer: **Cowboy Bebop isn't mine.  
_

**Entry #1: Cold Hands – **_Handshake_

Spike leaned back into his chair, away from the haze of the smoke of the bar. With a warm glass of rum in one hand and a dying cigarette in the other, he had come to one very important conclusion:

He was tired.

He was tired of hanging around in this seedy bar after every single hit, waiting for Vicious to finish up with whatever girl he was with. He was tired of the warm booze that pressed itself seductively against the back of his throat. He was tired of the jazz music that sagged and slunk its way through the air, crawling, clawing, and gasping in his ear. But, most of all, he was tired of the hot women; vixens who eyes his shoulders, his gun, and his wallet. They slipped and enveloped around him like flames, their heat licking and burning his skin.

Regardless, he had promised he'd meet Vicious here. Vicious wasn't tired of the booze, jazz, or women. He wasn't tired of gun smoke or one-night stands.

But then again, he had changed a little. Vicious had mentioned he was bringing a girl with him tonight. Julia, he was the name. Spike was skeptical, and so, he waited.

It was when Vicious tapped his shoulder six minutes later that his skepticism turned into full-fledged surprise. She was a flash of gold, this Julia. At first glance she was gorgeous, but as Spike peered up into her face, he began to notice little things: light freckles, sharp nose, deep voice. He was glad Vicious had chosen her; she definitely was too classy to be his own type.

He had almost written her off, but it was her handshake that won him over: a firm, cold grasp that kept him from falling in that hot, tired bar.

**- End -**

**_A/N:_ _As always, please review!_  
**


	2. Senses

**_A/N: _**_Hello all! Welcome back and I hope you enjoy! Don't forget to review!_

**_Disclaimer: _**_Cowboy Bebop isn't mine._**  
**

**Entry #2 - **_Senses_

"Hey you."

Spike grins, grinding his cigarette against the brick wall that he leans against. He motions grandly for her to join him, and she falls beside the wall, hand brushing against his own. She holds out a cigarette and he hands her a lighter, watching her passively as she sets the white tube between her lips.

"Vicious says you've had a fight." She states simply, watching the smoke from her cigarette writhe in the air.

Spike nods and his hands find their way into his pockets. The street is empty; the lamp that the two stand under more a spotlight then a safety precaution

"What about?" she breathes, her adroit question chaffing his pride.

He reaches for her, hands grabbing at a waist too small and lips searching out for ruby red victims. He drags her into a near-by alley, bruising and needy hands searching out each other's curves. She buries herself into his shoulder, he into her hair, and they melt into each other and the wall he presses her so roughly against.

"Innocence doesn't suit you," he growls into her mouth as she tugs on his jacket, pulling on his hair.

Julia moans in discomfort at his coarseness, and he pulls back, lips smeared red. She smiles at him and leans casually against the wall he had slammed her against.

"Does he know?" she asks suddenly, calm blue eyes shadowed.

Spike reaches into his pockets for his cigarette packet, removing two squares. He hands her one and leans against the wall, the steam rising from the puddles of the alley catching his attention.

"No." is his reply, and they both sigh into the midnight air.

They pass his lighter between the two of them in silence, their smoke fluttering lovely around the others; entwining and binding themselves to one another. The alley is quiet. Sure, the words haven't been spoken. But the signs are there.

And they both know Vicious isn't stupid. He can smell her perfume on him; can see she's got his gun. Vicious can hear their banter when the elders aren't listening, and he's touched the roses that Spike has bought for a "mystery" girl.

No, Vicious hasn't tasted the bitterness of betrayal, Spike thinks to himself, but he'll come to his senses soon enough.

**- End -**

**_A/N: As always, please review!_  
**


	3. Taking Care

_**A/N: **A little disappointed at the lack of response, but, alas, I shall prevail! (wink wink) Anyway, to those of you dropping, thanks so much and I hope you enjoy!_

**_Disclaimer: _**_Just using Cowboy Bebop character for my entertainment - not mine!_

**Entry #3: Banter; Anvils - **_Taking Care  
_

Spike is leaning against the counter, watching her hair catch the dim light of the room. She's talking to him: the one to whom she belongs, and she's just giggled. Vicious is grinning at him, over her shoulder. They both know who Vicious is taking home tonight.

But even more importantly, they know who Spike _isn't _taking home.

Spike frowns as his arm slips around her, cracking a dry joke to Jin and Mao in tandem. The two armed men nod in appreciation, and Julia's fingertips brush against Vicious' cheeks.

Spike nods at Vicious in submission, surprised when the silver-haired man gestures for him to take a seat near him.

"Spike," he drawls, reaching for the nearby ashtray, "you've been so distant lately."

The olive-haired man drapes his leather jacket on the back of his chair and remains silent. 

Vicious' smile is feral.

"I often where you run off to," he continues, his arm slithering around Julia's shoulders, "Jin says you come in late every morning and you certainly don't go out drinking every night with me."

Julia stiffens.

"Well, good for you, Spike," she defends, her body turning towards him, "you shouldn't be getting drunk all night anyway."

Vicious' smirk widens in amusement, as if he had just pressed a sharp claw to Julia's pretty little tail.

"Speaking of staying out of bars, you rarely come out with me at night anymore either," he directs at his girlfriend, his fingers pressing hard into her shoulders, " makes me wonder who you see after hours."

Spike stiffens as well and Vicious takes a swig from his whiskey bottle.

"At least I know I can trust you both," he finishes, his words falling like heavy, accusatory anvils, "I'd hate it if I had to go out looking for either one of you."

Spike grins.

"Oh, I'm a big boy, Vicious," he counters, picking up his glass and tipping it towards his friend, "and should Julia ever need help, you know I'd be the _first_ one there."

Vicious' eyes slant and his mouth almost disappears into a none-existent line.

"Well, between the both you, I should be safe!" Julia exclaims, her tone playful but her words grave.

"Yes, between the both of us, you'll be safe," Vicious repeats, motioning for the check and for the both of them to stand.

Spike glances up at Julia and smiles weakly.

"And should something happen to one of us, you are capable of taking care of yourself." Spike replied, his eyes locked with her own.

She stares at him quietly and nods abruptly, walking with Vicious out of the bar.

No, she's not going home with him, Spike thinks, but she'll be at his door in a few hours, taking care of herself.

**- End -**


	4. Lotusland

**_A/N: _**_So sorry for the delay! School's been kicking my butt. 20 points to whoever can pinpoint the orgin of the title and connect the story to it. In fact, if you do, I might do a little request for you. Anyway, enjoy all!_

_**Disclaimer: **Cowboy Bebop isn't mine.  
_

**Entry # Diabolical; Highest Order - **_Lotusland_

"Morning, stranger." She mumbles into his shoulder, pressing herself closer to his body and the heat.

He groans incoherently as response, turning away from the brilliance of the early morning sun and playfully folding her under him. The bed sheets shift with him, and the two become entangled; so close that they couldn't tell whose arm, whose leg, whose nose was which.

"Spike," she cries, eyes shining as she giggles, "I can't breath!"

Spike chuckles, a warm laugh that tickles Julia's throat as he trails small kisses down her neck.

"Maybe," he counters playfully, "this'll finally teach you to cut that slobbering out!"

Julia growls indignantly, nipping at his ear in retaliation.

"I don't slobber," she counters, poking Spike's cheek with her nose, "but I guess with all that snoring you do, something was bound to be rattled in that brain of yours!"

Spike props himself up on an elbow, mismatched eyes grinning down at her bare face. She smiles back and the sun casts patterns on the bed sheets. He notices that her hair is gold and she notices that his is green: they recognize her arm, his leg. They separate to their respective sides of the bed. Spike begins to eye the pile of his clothes that he had so frantically torn off the night before.

"Aren't we a fine pair?" she trills sadly, eyelids fluttering closed. Spike's head turns slowly in her direction. He studies her face and then brushes away a stray flaxen hair.

"Gorgeous." He responds.

Her eyes remain closed, but she still smiles. His hand lingers, but then he is out of bed, reaching for his pants and searching for his coat. She feels the bed creak under the weight, feels lonely with all this extra space.

"Don't go."

Spike turns, his arm halfway into his jacket and suspended in the air. He blinks before his mouth sets into a thin line. He notices that her eyes are still closed.

"I can't stay, Jules." He replied softly, looking out the window.

Julia nods, swallowing thickly.

"Of course you can't."

Spike blinks. He looks out through the window again; out towards Vicious and the syndicate that holds them all so very close. He then looks back at Julia, her eyes closed and her breathing shallow. Spike sighs; she can't handle much more of this, this close-eyed, golden haired, low-voiced…woman of his.

He tosses his jacket onto the floor; sitting on the edge of the bed. He stares at the green shag carpet, resting his forehead in his hands. He heaves yet another sigh before lying down next to Julia, his arms encircling her lithe form. Her scent once again mingles with his own, her limbs pressing against his own.

"I though you couldn't stay…?"

Spike chuckles into her hair.

"A little self-indulgence never hurt anyone."

Julia smiles and shifts, her face nestled against his narrow chest.

"Although," Spike continues, as Julia's blue eyes flutter open, "someone one's little diabolical, guilt trip-"

Julia grins and silences him with a kiss.

"I swear, I don't see where you come up with these gross misrepresented stories Spike," she states happily, her arms finding his waist, "but then again, there is that rattled brain of yours."

**- End -**

**_A/N: As always, please review!_  
**


	5. Madeleine

**_A/N: _**_Sorry for the delay, hope you enjoy, and if you don't get the title, look it up in the dictionary!_

_**Disclaimer: **Cowboy Bebop ain't mine!_**  
**

**Entry #5: Trickery; Magic - **_Madeleine_

He had thought that he was just tired of remembering her.

She'd invade his senses at the weirdest times: he'd see her in every puddle, find her scent in any alley. He always turned when he passed a brilliant blonde, and even Faye's girly soap would set off her trilling voice in his head.

He knew that she was out there, but the chances of her being on the same planet as him, at the same time and same place, were highly unlikely. Still, he'd hear her name in casual conversation, her low voice in the crowds that ebbed and flowed endlessly around him, and he felt like the worlds were out to fool him. He was convinced that he was being duped by this memory of her; hell, he had almost been tricked into buying her memory, which had felt so damn close on that corner, flowers from a rose vender. She had felt too real that day on that particular corner, so deep in his mind.

And after that incident, he began to realize that it wasn't her memory that made him tired: a lingering sickness that pursued him faithfully; an illness that both pushed him forward and chained him to the past. He hadn't been able to put a finger on it exactly, but when he finally reunited with her, and was able hold her closely, desperately clinging to her dreamy whispers of farewell, he finally understood.

He was tired of her always, _always _leaving him with the crowds and the magician-rose venders. He was peering a second time around corners because he had heard a laugh like bells and saw her in his dreams because she selfishly clung to his mind, lovingly caressing it with images of reunion. She always left him with dreams, his Julia, and even as her eyes fluttered closed forever, he found that this time was no exception.

**- End -**

**_A/N: As always, please review!_  
**


	6. Gibbous

_**A/N: **So I finally took time off my schedule and typed this one up; I would say it wook me such a long time to write this, but it really only took me twenty minutes. I have #7 written and that should be up too. Enjoy!_

_**Disclaimer:** Cowboy Bebop is property of Bandai and, thus, is not mine. _

* * *

**Entry #6 Sarcasm – **_Gibbous_

Julia had heard great things about him; this Spike guy. Jin had claimed he was trustworthy; Vicious maintained that he was talented. There was talk within the syndicate that he, along with Vicious, would definitely be considered for leadership positions within the group.

_After a few decades,_ she thought wryly, adjusting her sunglasses and leaning against the brick wall. They needed to meet in public; needed to look like a couple going for a walk in the park or else their target would know they were there. So, she waited for him, this killing prodigy, waiting for the muscle that would off-set her lipstick's charm.

She checked her watch again: he was late.

Vicious was always talking about him. There were nights where they would lay languidly in bed, the smell of stale sex and smoke lingering in the air. He would whisper reverently about his best friend: his voice tainted with love, respect, trust, disgust, and jealousy. He would hold her hand tightly those nights, but his eyes would focus on the ceiling; would leave hers to visit a world in which their backs would be pressed up against one another's, pumping iron into targets as only the nest team of the Red Dragon syndicate could. She couldn't reach Vicious then; no smile or breath or moan would catch his attention, and so she would listen to his stories and wonder at Spike Spiegel with the silver haired man. She was jealous by no means, but she began to wonder why he was so great.

Julia sighed in annoyance, running her hand through her hair. It had almost been twenty minutes, and the target was already striding in her general direction.

Vicious had introduced her once, but he had been distant. Julia thought maybe he just didn't like her, but then she remembered that **all **men liked her. His gaze fell on her in meetings, in passing. She knew and he knew; he stayed away from her _because _all men liked her. She couldn't help but respect him for that; most men wouldn't have cared and Julia found that she was often forced into a "Helen of Troy" position.

"Hey."

Julia switched on a warm smile, their target already in viewing range. She pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"You're late." She whispered into his ear, slipping a handgun into his coat pocket under the guise of a lover's embrace.

He grinned.

"Consider it a creative introduction." He remarked, pulling her in close, eyes trained on the mission at hand.

Julia rolled her eyes. Vicious was right: as great as he was, his sarcasm was irritating.

"We've met." She stated simply, straightening herself and glaring at him.

He glanced down at her, gaze piercing her own. There was a desire in the gaze: she could feel it caressing her hips, thighs, hands, breasts. The gaze knew and so did they:

"Not quite yet." He replied, his arm wrapped lustfully around her waist as he led her towards their mark.

Yes, she couldn't help but think to herself, his sarcasm was _quite _irritating.

**- End -**

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**_A/N: As always, please review!_**


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